I gave hip-hop to white boys when nobody was looking
Found it locked in a basement when they gentrified Brooklyn
Left a list of instructions, MPC and a mic
My sci-fi library and utensils to write
Right or wrong, I think hip-hop is where it belongs
Where it comes from one is but son, we wrote them songs
It was a ploy
Got fools tied up with mechanized toys
We are beings of breath, beyond the beings of boys

[Hook]
Now you can break all you wanna
Scratch all you wanna, graff all you wanna
Laugh all you wanna
But I wanna show you what the stars are made of
I wanna show you the stars
So substitute the anger and oppression with guilt and depression and it's yours, it's yours
Substitute the anger and oppression with guilt and depression and it's yours, it's yours

Ha!
...White boys listen to white boys
Black boys listen to black boys
No one listens to no one, no one listens to no one
Alone on a mountain top, uprooted from the earth
Drifting beyond normalcy, a gold piece in God's purse is
Worthless here, we're earthless here
God versus fear, man versus fear
Fear not, I purse my lips and kiss like a Glock
Violence is a metaphor for victory's plot
Change is inevitable but our death is not
(Ha ha ha ha ha)